


Winter Song

by gotatheory



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dark!OQ, F/M, Outlaw Queen Advent Calendar 2017, Wedding, Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 16:29:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12891978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotatheory/pseuds/gotatheory
Summary: The Evil Queen and Robin of Locksley are getting married, and invite Regina and Henry to the wedding. Written for the OQ Advent Calendar 2017.





	Winter Song

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Outlaw Queen Advent Calendar 2017](http://www.onceuponanadvent.com) and originally posted on the Advent website [here](http://onceuponanadvent.com/vault/gifts/day-1-gift-2/). Definitely check out the amazing website and all the amazing gifts that will unlock over the month!

After sending the Queen off to her fresh start, Regina had considered trying to check up on her. As Robin of Locksley crossing over into this realm had proved, the Wish Realm was presumably as real as any of the others, and Regina thought she might be able to see it with her mirror. She didn’t try in the long run — partially because she was distracted by the Black Fairy and Gold’s son, and partially because it seemed voyeuristic, even for her. Not to mention spying on a part of herself hopefully getting a happy ending with some version of her soulmate seemed like a recipe for wounding her still-mending heart.

So she hadn’t tried, had instead held onto hope (and wouldn’t Snow be proud of that?) that the Queen was with him, that at least in some universe, she and Robin were happy.

It’s not until after the Black Fairy’s curse has been cast and then defeated that Regina changes her mind. She has to know if the Enchanted Forest has been restored, if the Queen survived after all, and that she and Robin are still together.

Fortunately, peering into the Enchanted Forest is easier with the magic that separates this realm from that one being so weak after all their realm-hopping. It takes a fair bit of magic, but soon the mirror in Regina’s vault is clouded with purple smoke that fades away to reveal her — _the Queen’s_ castle.

The view is from the mirror at the Queen’s vanity, meaning she has a front row seat to the Queen brushing out her hair, clad in one of those velvet gowns she favored when staying in the castle. Regina sighs in relief, happy to know her other half is safe, but Robin is still nowhere to be seen. For a moment, she worries that maybe the Queen lied to her — perhaps she had left him back in the Wish Realm after all, or worse.

She thinks back to the Queen’s face, the way she twirled her hair and blushed at the mere mention of Robin. No, she’s certain her doppelgänger wasn’t lying. Robin was there, he had to be.

Regina catches movement in the background, a figure standing in the shadows, but the Queen doesn’t seem to notice. For a moment, Regina panics, trying to find a way to warn her but then the figure steps just a bit closer, and her heart stutters in her chest.

It’s him.

Robin.

Tears prick at the back of her eyes as she sees him, and she can’t resist reaching out to touch the smooth surface of her mirror. It’s not _him_ , not her Robin, not even half of him like the Queen was half of her. But he looks so much like him, even with his slightly younger face, his darker hair. For a moment, she almost can’t breathe, and then Robin is raising his bow, aiming an arrow at her doppelgänger, and suddenly fear lances through her, what if she was wrong—

The arrow slices the air and pierces the wooden frame of the Queen’s mirror with a _thwack_.

Regina can only watch the Queen as something about the arrow catches her eye, her face shifting into an expression Regina can’t read. It’s not until she reaches for the arrow, pulling something from it, that Regina sees a scrap of paper and — more importantly — a sparkling diamond ring.

She gasps, and stares as her counterpart looks over her shoulder at Robin of Locksley. He’s approaching her now, with a nervous smile on his face as he says, “Well, Your Majesty? What do you say?”

The Queen is up and out of her chair in a flash, meeting Robin halfway and embracing him, and it’s as she kisses him that Regina waves her hand, fogging the glass. When it fades, the image is gone, and she’s left alone at her mirror.

Those tears are welling up, spilling over now, a combination of happiness and sadness and jealousy that Regina can’t contain. She’s overjoyed for her other half, truly, she wanted her to be happy. That doesn’t stop the more negative emotions from bubbling inside of her, the bitterness that tells her the moment she witnessed should have been _hers_ , even though she has no idea if she wanted to marry Robin or if he wanted to marry her.

(She remembers _You are my future, Regina_ and _I’m with you. Always_ and wonders if that was close enough.)

But Robin of Locksley was never for her, she realizes now. Had realized the moment he kissed her in her vault, really, and it had felt wrong. Two puzzle pieces that weren’t meant to go together, unable to slot neatly into place. Not like a soulmate was suppose to feel.

She only caught a glimpse of her counterpart kissing him before she closed the connection, but it’s safe to say the Queen must not feel the same way.

~ | ~

Regina doesn’t check on them again, satisfied with the knowledge that they’re okay, that they survived. That they’re happy. She doesn’t need to look — she doesn’t want to, barely able to handle the bittersweet knowledge that they’re together, and planning their wedding, or perhaps they’ve already gotten married. She tries not to think about it, about how she’s happy for them and miserable at the same time. Instead, she focuses on Henry, on teaching her sister how to raise her niece and become a better person (forces herself to remember that Zelena is trying, that she can’t stay bitter about the baby’s conception forever, that once she was that person and Zelena will apologize, in time, that she must have patience).

In turns out that she needn’t have worried about looking in on the Queen and Robin of Locksley. She’s in her office when she hears her name called in a too familiar voice, and when she looks up, her own face is staring back at her from the mirror hanging across from her conference table. Except it’s not her face; it’s the Queen’s.

“Queenie?” Regina says in surprise, blinking at her doppelgänger. She stands up from her desk, approaching the mirror to look at her properly. “Is everything okay?”

The Queen is, quite frankly, glowing. Despite her characteristic dramatic makeup and high-collared, low-necked, bejeweled dress, she's smiling wider than Regina thinks she has ever smiled in her life, except for maybe when she adopted Henry. And perhaps her blatantly obvious good mood is the reason she doesn't make a smart-ass remark to Regina’s question, instead saying, “Yes, everything is…” She trails off, shaking her head a moment, biting her lip (and failing) to contain her large grin. “I wanted to invite you to a wedding,” she tries instead, and Regina’s heart knocks hard in her chest.

“Oh,” is all she manages to get out, her throat constricted.

The Queen nods, and seems oblivious to the tears pricking Regina’s eyes. “Mine and Robin’s,” she tells her, and her smile softens somehow, morphing from overwhelming giddiness to something more subdued, something impossibly tender.

“Oh,” Regina says again, dumbly, not letting on that she already knew this was coming. “I see…”

“I know this is… unusual. But I would…” The Queen's brow knits, as she searches for the correct word. “I would love for you to attend. And our son.”

Regina swallows around the lump in her throat and nods. “Of course, we’d love to, but… I don't exactly have a way of getting us there.”

“Don't worry, I'll handle that. Just be ready. The wedding date is the 21st, but I’ll come and get you and Henry the day before, if that’s acceptable?”

“Of course,” she says with another nod and the slow uncurling of her clenched fist. Fortunately, the Queen doesn’t seem to notice the action or the tightness of Regina’s smile. “Well, I guess we’ll see you then. And congratulations, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you,” the Queen’s own smile is bright, and wide, and almost girlish. “For everything.” She looks over her shoulder suddenly, and Regina distantly hears the echo of her name being called. “I’ll be right there, dear,” she calls back, before turning to face her mirror once more. “I’ve got to go — despite this wedding being a small affair, there’s simply so much to plan!”

She doesn’t know what to say to that, but it seems the Queen doesn’t expect her to answer anyway. She reiterates that she’ll come to get her and Henry on the 20th, and then she’s gone with a quick little wave, her mirror returning to normal.

Regina’s expression crumples the moment the Queen has disappeared, leaving her all alone in her office once more. Those tears that had been building during the conversation spill over now, falling unbidden as she buries her faces in her hands, unable to stem the wave of sorrow. She’s happy for her other half and her other half’s soulmate, she wanted them to be happy, had hoped for it, but seeing it is a different story. And now she’s going to go and watch them get married, and see more of the Queen looking so smitten (Regina knows, now, what Snow meant that day in Granny’s, so long ago when she and Robin were in the first flush of their romance), and knows that her own soulmate is gone.

~ | ~

The Queen keeps her word, arriving on December 20th just as she had said. She simply walks into Granny’s, dressed in her leather trousers and a red riding jacket, and her fiancé in tow. She’s left the hat behind, choosing instead to have her hair half-up and half-down, an elaborate set of pins and clips holding a small bun in place while the rest of it cascades around her shoulders. Regina isn’t aware of their presence at first, she’s having lunch with Henry, listening as he tells her all he learned from Hook about how to sail the Jolly Roger. She’s not too thrilled that the pirate is apparently giving her son lessons on how to be a better pirate (certainly doesn’t think about months ago, when Henry had asked Robin about archery lessons), but she nods and _Ooh_ s at all the important parts nonetheless, until Leroy stands suddenly, his stool at the counter falling over in his haste.

“What the hell are you doing here, sister?” he barks at the Evil Queen, who simply rolls her eyes.

“Oh, shut it, I’m not here for _you_ ,” she assures, and Regina stands as Leroy starts to sputter and draw himself up, as if he could take her on all by himself.

“Regina,” she says, inadvertently echoing her counterpart at the same time. Before she can say anything else, Henry’s exclaiming, “Mom!” and rushing over to hug her tightly.

Regina walks more slowly over to them, sparing a glance at Robin before turning her eyes determinedly to her son and the Queen. Henry’s murmuring about how he missed her, and Regina meets the Queen’s gaze as she tells him how much she’s missed him. She knows herself well enough to recognize the pain and self-loathing — she thinks Henry is lying, because how could he miss her when he has _her_ (the “good” Regina) there? — even though the Queen is just as skilled at hiding it.

“What are you doing here, though? Is the Enchanted Forest okay?” Henry asks, pulling away from her embrace.

“You didn’t tell him?” the Queen says to Regina, who shakes her head.

“I thought that you might like to break the news yourself,” she explains with a little shrug. It goes unsaid that this is something she would have wanted to tell Henry had it been her in the Queen’s place.

The Queen smiles, grateful, and then she’s turning to Robin, reaching for him and tugging him to her side. She doesn’t release his hand as she looks back to her son, that giddy schoolgirl expression back on her face. Robin and Henry exchange awkward pleasantries (Henry hadn’t known how to interact with the man who looked like his dead hero the first time Robin of Locksley was in Storybrooke, either), before she interrupts their moment to say, “Henry, I’m here to extend an invitation to you and Regina.”

“An… invitation?” Henry blinks, confused, and the Queen nods.

“You see, Robin and I… are getting married tomorrow,” she says, sharing another lovesick look with Robin, and Regina feels that twisting in her chest, the bitterness, the sorrow. She tamps it down as Henry’s eyes grow wide with excitement. “And I’d like you and Regina to be there.”

“Mom!” Henry exclaims, wrapping her in his arms once more. “I’m so happy for you! Of course we’ll come!” He pulls away then, looking to Regina, saying, “Right?”

Regina smiles at him, hoping it reaches her eyes and looks genuine enough to fool her son and the Queen. “Right,” she says with a tiny nod. “We just need to get a few things from the house and then we can be on our way. By the way, how _did_ you manage to get here from the Enchanted Forest?”

The Queen grins, reaching into her coat and brandishing an all-too-familiar wand, one Regina recognizes immediately as the Black Fairy’s. “Turns out this was in Rumple’s vault in the Wish Realm. I might be a better person than I was, but I still have just enough darkness to use it,” she says with a shrug, tucking it back into its pocket.

Regina frowns then, but the Queen is turning on her heel then, leading them off toward her home before she can say anything about the wand. For a moment, she simply stands there, watching Robin and the Queen walking down the street, arm in arm, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. It’s an endless beat, a constant refrain of _what could have been_ playing over and over again every time she sees Robin of Locksley, especially when she sees him with her other half.

They look good together. Happy. Though she did her damnedest not to look at Robin, in the glimpses she did get of him, he seemed just as infatuated as the Queen.

“You okay, Mom?” Henry asks, his expression far too understanding and concerned for someone of his age.

“Yeah,” Regina says quickly, nodding, swiping at her eyes to get rid of any potential tears. “Come on, let’s go get our things.” She ignores the way he continues to look at her, even once she’s wrapped an arm loosely around his shoulders to lead him down the street. There are some things she doesn’t want to discuss with her son, such as how her heart breaks just a little every time she sees Robin of Locksley.

~ | ~

Regina had packed a small bag for herself and for Henry in preparation for today, so when they arrive at the house, all she has to do is go and get them from her room. She takes a moment to compose herself, to mentally adjust to going back to the Enchanted Forest and that castle. At least this time Henry will be with her, instead of separated by realms. That alone should make it easier than any of the other times she’s returned to that place that never really felt like home.

It’s funny that her other half apparently doesn’t feel the same way about the castle.

She pushes those thoughts away, snatching the overnight bags out of her closet, and steeling herself to see the Queen with her Robin once more. They’re not even doing anything, not really, except they’re surprisingly tactile. (Is that a surprise, really? Considering how often she and Robin would exchange gentle touches, holding hands, reassuring each other, lending strength to one another…) The Queen holds onto Robin’s arm, or stands close as he places a hand on her back, not in a show of possessiveness, but simply to _touch_ the person they love. If they’re not touching, they’re looking at one another, all smitten smiles and coy glances. It takes all of her self control to not point out that it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding so that she can be spared the front row seat to their affection.

She holds her tongue, though, and says nothing. She told the Queen to enjoy every moment of her happiness, after all. And after everything the Queen went through, she’s due something as simple as getting to hold her soulmate’s hand without any biting comments from someone missing her own soulmate.

Once downstairs, she sends a quick text to Emma and Snow, just to let them know that the Queen had arrived and they’d be heading to the Enchanted Forest.

“Ready?” the Queen asks, and Regina looks at her and Robin. They’re just standing there, not doing anything in particular, but Robin glances at her doppelgänger for a moment, and the love in his eyes when he gazes at the Queen makes her breath catch.

Her throat is too tight to speak, so she nods instead, reaching out to grasp Henry’s hand and remind herself of what all she does have. Her son, her family, this town. It’s enough, it’s more than she needs.

“All right, let’s go. We should get out on the street, the wand is a bit… destructive,” the Queen smirks, a glint in her eye Regina does not entirely like to see, but she refrains from commenting on it.

It takes no effort at all for the Queen to summon the tornado to whisk them away to the Enchanted Forest. The power of the wand deposits them exactly where they need to be: the courtyard of the Evil Queen’s castle.

It’s wintertime in the Forest, just like in Storybrooke, and the ground is blanketed in thick snow. A proverbial winter wonderland, and Henry _Ooh_ s excitedly as he looks around, eyes wide as he takes in all of the sights.

“It’s just like the storybook!” he says, sounding more like the ten-year-old she remembers instead of the young man he’s become. “Wow! Look at the castle, Mom!”

She can’t help but grin at that, at his enthusiasm, nor can she help her teasing remark, “Mm, I’ve seen it before.” His scowl only makes her laugh harder, but he’s quickly moving on from her less-than-impressed response to marvel at the landscape.

“There’s so much snow! Even more than there is Storybrooke,” he says, almost spinning around at he turns this way and that. “It wasn’t like this in Isaac’s storybook.”

“No, it was autumn then,” the Queen answers, sharing a look with Regina, a barely noticeable wince that she only catches because she knows herself so well.

They’re both remembering the same thing: Rumplestiltskin brandishing a sword on their son, and then the sharp bite of steel through their stomach as they jumped in the way.

“Being here is _so cool_ ,” Henry continues, completely oblivious to the memory his moms are sharing. “I want to see everything!”

“It’s a lot less interesting on the inside. A lot of stuffy rooms without electricity or running water,” Regina warns him, though his enthusiasm will not be deterred.

“It’s awesome,” he declares conclusively, completely confident in his assessment despite not having seen anything more than the courtyard.

“Shall we go inside?” Robin of Locksley suggests, and Regina thinks it’s the first words he’s said to anyone besides the Queen since they arrived in Storybrooke. “We could get out of this cold and give the boy a tour.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” the Queen says, with a mischievous smile at Henry. “We might be able to scrounge up some hot chocolate and cinnamon, too.”

Henry’s eyes light up at the thought, as if he’s been deprived of such a thing since winter started back home. Regina knows everything must seem exciting now, though, doing it here in a place he’s mostly only read about. Isaac’s twisted Enchanted Forest really wasn’t the same, considering the circumstances that got them there. He couldn’t enjoy it, not when he had a family to save.

“Reginaaaaa!”

Both of the women in question turn at the sound of their name, but it’s the Queen who _Ooomph_ s in surprise as a tiny body hurls itself at her, arms wrapping around her legs tightly and causing her to stumble back a step. Robin steadies her with a hand on her back, a fond smile playing on his lips while Regina can only watch the scene playing out before her with an acute burst of longing in her stomach.

The tiny body is all too familiar to her, with his mop of curls and dimpled grin, his green cape settling around him now that he’s come to a stop.

“Roland,” she whispers, a hand pressed to her belly, and it’s as if she’s been run through with a sword all over again. She almost can’t believe her eyes, would think she was dreaming the entire thing if not for Henry stepping next to her, gripping her hand.

She should have known that Roland would be here — hadn’t the Queen mentioned something about Friar Tuck that last time? — but she didn’t think… Her eyes dart nervously to Robin, looking from him to Roland and back again, and he must notice, because he’s saying, “It’s complicated,” with a little good-humored shrug.

Roland is pulling back from the Queen now, looking up at her with wide, curious eyes. “You’re back! Did you bring my present?” he asks, almost bouncing with excitement.

She smiles warmly at him, running a hand through his curls before she kneels in front of him. Tenderly, she turns him to face Regina, with an encouraging, “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

“Regina! Henry!” the boy screams, dashing over to them, and Regina can’t resist bending down to catch him. “I missed you!”

“I missed you, too,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms tightly around him, and for a moment, that ache in her soul settles. This little boy meant so much to her in the year that they lost, and then had quickly wormed his way into her heart just as much as his father had once they were in Storybrooke. And now she hasn’t seen him since his father’s death, didn’t even get to say goodbye to him, he was just _gone_.

She’s crying, she knows she is, can feel the hot tears rolling down her face as she cradles Roland in her arms.

“Regina!” Roland gasps and giggles, laughing as he tells her, “You’re crushing me!”

And she is, she realizes, she’s holding him much too tightly to her. “Sorry,” she chuckles awkwardly, releasing him and settling back on her heels. “You’ve grown so much!”

He beams at her, before his face becomes more serious. “Did you get my gift? I wanted to give it to you myself, but Uncle John said we had to go…”

Regina licks her lips, shares a look with Robin of Locksley as she draws his feather from her pocket, schooling her features into a wide smile for Roland’s sake. “Yes, I did,” she tells him, and the lie feels sour on her tongue but it’s worth it for the way his face lights up. “I’m glad I get to thank you for it in person, because it means a lot to me, Roland, that you would let me have something that meant so much to your papa.”

“I wanted you to have something to remember us by,” he says, inadvertently shoving a knife into her heart.

“Oh, sweetheart, I could never forget you or your father.” Those tears are back in full force, spilling over, and Roland’s expression goes all distraught at her sniffling.

“Regina, don’t cry!” He’s reaching out to comfort her, despite his age, despite the own shine of tears in his eyes. “I miss Papa, too. But it’s a happy day — you’re here, and Henry, and Majesty and Uncle Robin are getting married tomorrow!”

That tugs at her heartstrings, too, the reminder of her ex-evil half’s impending nuptials to her soulmate, but the _Uncle Robin_ has her eyebrows rising, looking over the top of his head to the Queen. She shrugs in response, and Regina makes a mental note to ask her for an explanation later.

She doesn’t have to wait for long — Henry, realizing the serious, mournful turn the encounter has taken, quickly steps in. “Hey kiddo,” he says, and Roland turns, eyes wide with realization that he hasn’t even properly greeted Henry yet. He quickly rectifies that by giving him a huge hug, and babbling excitedly about having him here in the Enchanted Forest, and how he’ll have to show him _everything_ just like Henry had shown him around Storybrooke.

“Why don’t you show me your room in the castle?” Henry suggests, and Roland spins to face the Queen and Robin.

“Can I?” he asks excitedly, practically bouncing on the spot, and the Queen laughs.

“Of course you can,” she says with a smile, and then they’re off.

Once they’re alone, Regina turns to the Queen and Robin, eyebrows raising. “Uncle Robin?” she says, and the Queen sighs.

“We had to tell him something,” she points out, shrugging again. “And so we went with the truth, or as close as we could get it. He doesn’t understand it, not really, but he knows Robin isn’t his papa. He knows I’m not you, either. I left out the part about being your evil twin, so to speak, but he gets that there are two of us, at least.”

“And the Merry Men just… let you have him?” Regina frowns, because that doesn’t sound like them at all.

“Of course not,” she scoffs, shaking her head. “They wouldn’t even let Robin see him at first. It took some convincing to let them meet, but… It was important to me, and so eventually, they gave in, once they realized I really wouldn’t do anything to hurt Roland. So we have a compromise; he mostly stays with John and the rest of the men, but they live on palace grounds, so I can see him whenever I want and he’s free to come and go as he pleases. They’ve moved into the castle for winter, though. I insisted upon it.”

Regina smiles, thinking about the Evil Queen bullying the Merry Men into staying in her castle when she would have usually been fighting to keep them out. All because of what those men meant to Robin and what Roland means to her.

Something about her expression must betray the bittersweetness of seeing Roland again, of knowing that he’s been reunited with her other half, because the Queen is saying, “I’m sorry, I should have told you he was here… When I found out the Merry Men were back in the Enchanted Forest and I saw Roland again, I was so happy… I thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

“No,” she says, quick to shake her head and assuage her concerns. “It was a shock, but a good one. I didn’t think you found them, so I wasn’t expecting it. But I’m… I’m glad. Robin would have… He would have wanted him to have…”

_Me_ is the word she wants, but that seems insensitive. So she settles for a more awkward, “One of us.”

The Queen winces, and her own Robin reaches out to place a comforting hand at the small of her back. Regina watches as her doppelgӓnger draws strength from the touch and tries very hard not to think of all the times Robin did the same to her, even as she feels the phantom press of his palm against her.

“Why don’t we go find the boys?” Robin suggests. “I’m sure they’ve gotten up to all sorts of trouble by now.”

“Yes,” the Queen says with a nod. “While I’m sure Henry won’t let Roland lead him too astray, there’s no telling what they’ve found. Perhaps we could have a bite to eat and then maybe see if they want to play in the snow for a bit, work off some energy…”

She’s sure they don’t intend to leave her out of the conversation, but for a moment, she feels distinctly like a third wheel despite her son being one of the boys they’re talking about. It’s another blow to her heart, realizing that she could have had this. That this is what it would have been like with her and Robin, talking about their boys, raising them. She bites her lip to hold back the tears, Robin and the Queen too busy continuing their discussion (they’re bickering, she realizes, having changed topics during her musing to something about the wedding) to notice as she takes a moment. She wipes at her eyes, collecting herself as best she can, before following them into the castle.

~ | ~

The rest of the day passes about how Regina would expect it: showing off the castle, a rundown of how the wedding is going to go, a snowball fight with the boys. Dinner is a surprisingly raucous affair, with the Merry Men joining them in the castle, and Regina is transported back to that Missing Year, when there were too many people in her house. It’s different now, because this place is no longer her house, it’s the Queen’s. It shows, too, in the way she hosts the dinner, the way she interacts with these men. They haven’t accepted her or Robin fully into the mix, but Regina can tell they’re getting there, warming up to them more and more. Slowly but surely becoming a family, one with jagged edges struggling to fit together, but finding their way nonetheless.

(She tries to not think about the meals she shared with these men back in their camp in Storybrooke, awkward moments where she felt judged even as they tried to be welcoming for Robin. Tries to not wonder if the Queen remembers that, if she feels awkward even now, even when she doesn’t have to play nice for Robin’s sake but for Roland’s instead.)

Everyone retires early, something Regina is thankful for. It’s been an emotionally taxing day, and she’s all too happy to go to the guest chambers the Queen has provided for her. Though she’s loved spending time with Roland, it’s draining to be around him, especially with the Queen and Robin nearby. She doubts any of them mean for it to hurt her, but there are so many reminders of her Robin here, of what she lost. All she wants right now is to sink into bed and hopefully get some sleep.

Her son has other ideas, apparently.

She’s just getting ready to climb into bed when there’s a knock at the door. Frowning, she goes to open it, only to find Henry standing on the other side.

“Hey, Mom,” he greets her sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, I wasn’t in bed yet,” she says, stepping back so that he can come inside. Like her, he’s dressed for bed, and she had walked him to his chambers to say goodnight before coming to her own. “Is something wrong, honey? Are you cold? Did the fire in your room go out?”

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s fine,” Henry replies, shaking his head. “No, I just… I wanted to check on you. I don’t know a lot about… losing your soulmate… Or seeing your double get married to someone who looks just like your soulmate… But I imagine it’s gotta be tough.”

Regina chuckles darkly, without an ounce of humor. It’s not something she really wants to discuss with Henry, but her son is too smart and cares too much. She owes him at least an honest answer, so she says, “Yeah… Tough is a good word for it.”

Henry’s brow furrows, his face scrunching up in sympathy. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice pained, and she’s surprised to see tears in his eyes. “I wish… I wish I could do something to fix it. To bring him back.”

“Oh, Henry.” She shakes her head, reaching out to squeeze his shoulders. They’ve had this discussion before, about how he can’t abuse his authorial powers. “No, you don’t have to feel that way. It’s… It’s hard, but I’m fine. I’m okay.”

He doesn’t believe her, but he pulls her into a hug, and she’s momentarily taken aback by how _tall_ he is now. He hugs her tight, murmuring into her shoulder, “I miss him, too.”

It brings tears to her eyes, has her sniffling before she can stop it. She’s not going to sob in her son’s arms, not going to break down like that in front of him, but a few tears slip out. “I know, baby,” she whispers, because there’s no doubt in her mind that Henry loved Robin, too.

He pulls out of the embrace, squeezing her arms before he releases her. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks, doubt in his eyes.

“I will be. Now, go to bed. You have an important job tomorrow, after all, and I don’t think you want to be stumbling down the aisle half-asleep with the Evil Queen on your arm,” she teases, leaning in to touch her forehead to his. 

Henry grins, the same wide, enthusiastic smile he wore when the Queen asked if he’d walk her down the aisle tomorrow. “Do you think she’d fire ball her own son?”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” She pretends to consider it a moment, tapping her chin with a finger as she thinks it over. “It is her wedding day.”

“Better not risk it,” he laughs, and Regina chuckles, unable to resist tugging into one more final hug. She pulls back, cupping his chin like she used to do when he was younger.

“I love you, Henry,” she tells him, despite the tiny frisson of fear that sparks up inside her every time she dares to say those words. As if by speaking them will somehow bring everything crashing down around her (she hopes one day, she’ll say them without worrying she might lose the people she loves).

He smiles at her, looks so much like the little baby boy she brought home all those years ago, and her heart aches fondly. His _I love you, too, Mom_ is tinged with teenage exasperation, but he humors her, even lets her get in a quick kiss to his forehead before he’s heading off to bed.

Morning comes quickly, bringing with it excitement and perhaps a tiny bit of dread for Regina. Weddings haven’t been her favorite thing for a very long while; this one has her at war with herself. She wants to be happy for the Queen, really she does, and she is. The only problem is that when she thinks of watching them exchange vows, she might as well have a huge bruise with someone constantly jabbing their finger in it.

She tries to hide it, maybe even manages to hide it from everyone except one person. The one person who would know, who would be able to read her like an open book.

The Queen is sitting at her vanity, Regina helping her with her hair (she doesn’t know why they’re not using magic, except yes, she does — there’s something about actually taking the time to do this by hand, getting into her dress and doing her makeup and making everything just perfect), when she says, “I want to thank you, Regina.”

Regina looks up from the curls she’s carefully, painstakingly pinning into place, meeting the Queen’s eyes. “For what?” she murmurs, turning her gaze back to her work.

“Well,” she chuckles, her hands fidgeting in her lap. She’s nervous, not in an anxious way, but excited, Regina knows. She can tell; it’s in the smile she can’t quite keep hidden, tipping the corners of her mouth every time she thinks no one is watching. “For everything, really, but for this in particular.”

“I couldn’t let you do your own hair on your wedding day,” she tells her flippantly, pinning the last curl. She’s gone with it half-down and half-up, the long waves flowing over her shoulders while the rest is gathered into a small, twisted little bun. “Just imagine how it’d make me look if you looked bad today of all days.” She smirks at her, so that she knows she’s teasing, but the Queen is shockingly serious, shaking her head.

“Not _this_ this. For being here. For coming when I know this must be difficult for you.”

Regina sighs, grimacing. This isn’t a conversation she particularly wanted to have. “I’m very happy for you and Robin,” she says instead of answering, receiving an eye roll in response that has her arching an unamused brow at her doppelgänger.

“I’m sure you are, but I saw how you watched Roland yesterday. And how you’ve looked when Robin and I kiss or touch too much in front of you,” she points out, her own brow rising as if to dare her to disagree. “And I think you knew how much this could hurt, but you came anyway. So thank you.”

There’s no point in pretending, she supposes, so she nods her head in acceptance. “You’re welcome, Queenie,” she says, even reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. “It does hurt, but I’m glad at least one of us has this.”

The Queen smiles at her, a little sadly, the sort of look Regina doesn’t really want to see. She doesn’t need anyone’s pity, especially that of the Evil Queen’s (even one who is not so evil anymore). It has her frowning, focusing more on the task of adding the tiny jewels the Queen’s insisted upon having beaded throughout her hair.

Conversation peters out, leaving them in a silence that’s not quite comfortable but doesn’t tip over into awkward, either. It simply is, until Regina’s got the last of the gems in her hair. The Queen stands then, her look completed, and it’s almost time.

Regina gives her a final once over, making sure everything is perfect. She can’t help but ask, “Why black?”

With a smirk, the Queen studies herself in her full length mirror, running her hands over the black bodice of her wedding dress. The dress is — well, it’s something. A bit… much for Regina, but fitting for the Queen. It’s black, tight all the way down to her knees, where it flares in a flutter of tulle. There’s cleavage, of course; from her shoulders to the tops of her breasts, her chest is left bare, and there’s a surprisingly modest keyhole that runs from the center of her chest to several inches below. She’s sparkling, too, the dress is embellished in an elaborate design from the bodice all the way down to where the tulle starts below her knees.

“It is _my_ color,” she shrugs one slender shoulder, before reaching up to fiddle with the lace sleeves running down her arms. “Not to mention I was already married once; white seemed inappropriate.”

“You look gorgeous,” Regina says sincerely, and adding, “Robin is going to love it.”

The Queen smiles in that smitten little way, running her hands over dress once more, all nervous, excited energy as she studies herself. There’s a knock, and then Henry’s sticking his head in, asking if they’re ready.

It’s time.

~ | ~

Sleep doesn’t come easy for Regina on most nights, but being back in this castle makes it infinitely worse. The previous night wasn’t so bad; the snowball fight with the boys, the Queen, and Robin had taken most of her energy and resulted in sleep coming a tad bit easier. Tonight, she’s not so lucky, despite the whirlwind of emotion that was the wedding.

The ceremony had went off without a hitch, thankfully. It might not have been her day, but she wanted everything to go perfectly for the Queen and Robin with such a fervor that she might as well have been the one getting married. And though she had had her doubts when the Queen told her she’d be having an outdoor ceremony in the middle of December, it had been quite lovely to see them standing there before Friar Tuck, Roland and Little John at Robin’s side while she and Henry stood at the Queen’s, and the rest of the Merry Men watched from their seats. The snow-covered trees of the palace grounds made for a stunning backdrop, especially the way the Queen had decorated the area in surprisingly festive embellishments such as boughs of holly, an arch decked out in mistletoe, and magical fairy lights. She had even used her magic to create a warm bubble around the area, ensuring no one froze to death while she and Robin traded vows.

All went smoothly, with only one exception: the surprise appearance of Mary Margaret and David. Regina has no idea how they managed to get to the Enchanted Forest, but sure enough, they stumbled into the clearing, snow crunching under their feet, as if they belonged there. Mary Margaret had winced as heads turned toward them, offering up a timidly cheeky, “Sorry we’re late,” that had both the Queen and Regina biting back a smile (and the Queen sharing a long look with her former stepdaughter, and later, at the reception, Regina might have shed a tear or two when she watched the Evil Queen embrace Snow White).

Nonetheless, despite the excitement of the morning, and the reception afterwards where she consumed perhaps more wine than she reasonably should (to the point that she had let Henry and Roland convince her to dance, more than once, until her feet were protesting vehemently), sleep eludes her. She simply lies there, staring at the ceiling, closing her eyes and opening them when she doesn’t drift off like she so desperately wants.

There are so many memories wrapped up in this castle, mostly bad ones. Ones from when she was married to the king and forced to be a mother to Snow. A fair few from after that, too, when she was the Evil Queen. The better ones are later — that Missing Year, when even though her heart was breaking from being separated from her son, there was an insufferable thief and his adorable son adding some brightness to her days.

Regina regrets it now, how poorly she treated Robin during that time. It was so many things — her broken heart, this castle, his tattoo, and “villains don’t get happy endings.” She wasn’t in the right place to accept his advances, even the ones that he only meant to be friendly. But now it’s just time she wasted, time she could have had with him now that she never has time with him again.

She thinks of the Queen and Robin of Locksley, of vows exchanged and promises to never waste a minute of happiness.

With a grunt, she tosses and turns in a bed that can’t compare to the one she has back home in Storybrooke, fruitlessly adjusting her pillows to try and coax herself into sleep. She knows how hopeless it is (about as hopeless as most of her endeavors seem to be, she thinks with a fair amount of bitterness), and it’s that knowledge that has her climbing out of bed, donning a dressing gown borrowed from her other half.

She wanders the halls for a bit, chasing ghosts, trying to clear them from her mind but only succeeding in making them linger with a bit more force. It’s not the first time she’s walked the halls of this castle, unable to sleep for the invisible weight pressing on her chest. It’s always been something here, a lost love keeping her awake at night — Daniel, Henry, and now Robin.

During the year they lost, she used to walk the castle just like this, tracing a path through the corridors night after night. Robin used to accompany her, though he tried to make it seem like it was always coincidence after that first time. His presence annoyed her as much as she appreciated the distraction from her pain, the sort of contradictory feelings Regina was accustomed to feeling.

She misses him, misses his warmth, his love, his everything.

It’s muscle memory that leads her back to her chambers, has her pushing the door open without a thought or paying any mind to the faint sounds she could just barely hear through the thick wood. She’s only looking for her bed, and she’s not thinking about how this particular room isn’t hers anymore… until the door swings open, and she’s staring at herself doing her level best to fuck Robin straight through the mattress.

For a second, she thinks she’s hallucinating. But then Robin looks at her, and then he’s gripping her — the Queen’s — hips, stilling her movements much to her dismay, if the protesting cry she lets out is any indication.

“Can we help you?” he asks, voice strained from exertion. He makes no move to cover himself or his new wife, despite the… exposed position that they’re in.

The Queen, for her part, turns suddenly, starting to reach for the sheets tangled at the end of the bed before her eyes fall on Regina. “Oh, it’s you,” she says, not bothering to hide herself (Regina supposes she has seen it all before, so there’s really no point in covering up). “Did you get lost, dear?” she asks, but Regina barely hears the question.

She doesn’t hear it, because she’s distracted.

Her eyes are lingering on Robin, the sweat blooming at his temples and glistening on his bare skin. She can’t help but peruse his chest and think about how she used to run her nails over his muscles, down his stomach and over his abs, and God, she misses him. Misses the way he used to make her feel, the way he touched her, the way he looked at her like she was a thing to be treasured.

It occurs to her that it’s quite late and judging from their sweat-slicked skin, they’ve been at this a while.

“We don’t mind you watching, but close the door, would you please?” the Queen says, returning her attention to the man beneath her, her hips starting to roll slowly against his. “Roland doesn’t usually wander the halls during the night, but I don’t think any of us want him to see this.”

Regina hears her, but she’s mesmerized. It’s a strange sight to watch her own face contort in pleasure, to hear her groan when she’s not the one making those sounds or feeling that desire. But it’s as the Queen picks up speed, moaning at the change of pace, that Regina realizes what was said.

She should leave. She should turn around and go back to the guest room the Queen had given her, and close the door. Watching a version of herself fuck a version of her soulmate would be… bizarre.

Regina doesn’t know why, but she turns around, not to leave, but to close the door. She stands there for a moment, facing the wood, trying to figure out what she’s doing.

“ _Oh_ ,” the Queen gasps, except not from pleasure. It’s a sound of curiosity, of interest.

When Regina turns back around, the Queen is looking at her with raised eyebrows. “I’m shocked, Regina,” she says, smirking. “I didn’t think you’d have it in you…”

She doesn’t, she wants to reply, but then, she wouldn’t have stayed if she wasn’t… considering it. She swallows a little harder than usual, murmurs, “I… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t you?” She’s moving her hips lazily now, circling them in a way that has Robin groaning, and Regina closes her eyes, the sound bringing back memories of when she made her own Robin make that noise.

As if she knows what Regina is thinking, the Queen says, “You must’ve thought about this. About him like this, whether he’s the same…”

She hasn’t, not really, not until this moment. Not after their kiss in her vault, when she so desperately wanted to be with Robin again, and instead kissed something that might as well have been a paper copy for all the feeling she got from it. But now, standing in their chambers on their wedding night, acutely aware of how alone she is, how this facsimile of Robin is all that exists anymore, she finds that yes, she is wondering.

Wondering if he kisses the Queen with so much passion, like Robin kissed her. Wondering if he is as enamored with her hair as her Robin was. Wondering if she ran her tongue over his jaw, if he’d taste the same.

“Why don’t you come find out?” the Queen offers, and then she’s rising up on her knees, lifting off of Robin so that she’s kneeling beside him.

Regina can’t help it, can’t stop her eyes from perusing Robin’s body now that the Queen is no longer in the way. Unconsciously, she licks her lips, her eyes lingering on his erection, and he really is Robin’s double, at least from this angle. She wonders if he is from every angle, and perhaps she should step closer, just to find out…

Robin himself has been quiet throughout this exchange, however, hasn’t even flinched at his new wife offering up their marriage bed for a decidedly strange threesome. That’s the thought that has her tearing her eyes away from his cock, meeting his own gaze instead. His face is unreadable to her — something she doesn’t want to think too much about, because seeing a face she once could read so easily and now being unable to fathom what he’s thinking _hurts_ — and so she asks, “Shouldn’t you… kick me out or something?”

He levers himself into a sitting position with his elbows, awkwardly shrugging one shoulder. “I think I’d be a fool to turn down having two gorgeous women in my bed,” he says honestly, and Regina frowns. It’s nothing like what her Robin would say in this situation; at least, nothing she thinks he would say in this situation. But Robin of Locksley isn’t finished, adding, “Especially when the second woman is a copy of my gorgeous wife,” and he smiles up at the Queen, and in that moment, with his dopey, smitten grin, he looks exactly like Robin Hood.

God, she misses him so much, she can’t help but walk toward the bed, drawn by the image of her lost love before her. He’s not him, she knows that, he never would have said something like that, but she doesn’t care. She needs this, needs to ease the ache in her chest, needs something to fill the hole left in her heart.

Her Robin is gone, so she’ll have to make do with this one, just for tonight.

Regina reaches for the tie of her robe, shaky fingers tugging at the knot, and she’s intently focused on undoing it, pulling at it until it’s loose. She looks up then, as she’s about to shrug the garment off, and both Robin and the Queen are watching her with great interest. The Queen looks impressed that she’s actually doing this, something that simultaneously emboldens Regina and makes her want to stop.

This is crazy, this is weird, she’s about to get into bed with her own doppelgänger and a version of her soulmate created by a wish…

But she’s come too far to stop now, she’s so tired of feeling so alone, of being deprived of a lover’s touch.

The robe falls to the floor, and she keeps her eyes locked onto Robin, trying not to look at the Queen and instead focusing on the interested, curious way he’s looking at her. She reaches for her nightgown next, starts to pull at it, but then Robin moves, adjusts on the bed so that he’s sitting on his knees.

“Wait,” he says softly, and her heart wrenches, a gasp catching in her throat.

He sounds just like him when he speaks like that.

“Come here,” he continues, and she wonders if he sees the pain on her face or if the Queen notices it at all.

But she does as he bid, stepping closer to the bed, until she’s standing right in front of him, trying to calm the hitch in her breathing and the tremble running over her skin. He reaches for her, still wearing that curious expression, and brushes the backs of his fingers along her cheek.

His tenderness brings tears to her eyes, reminds her so much of a man she wants to forget just to spare herself this pain, but she leans into the touch nonetheless.

When he kisses her, it’s not the same. He’s not her Robin, there’s no spark, no connection. But she presses into it anyway, as if she can force it to feel right, and her hand cups the back of his neck as she takes control of the kiss.

For his part, he lets her lead and set the pace, responsive but not trying to dominate. She’s the one to open her mouth and let her tongue brush against his lips. He tastes the same, except for the remnants of mulled wine. It’s a heady combination, one that has Regina seeking out more of it, pressing against him as one of his hands comes to rest against the nape of her neck while the other seeks out her hip.

Regina moans encouragingly, her kiss becoming more passionate, almost frenzied as she reaches down to pull at her nightgown. Robin helps her out, sits back enough that he can tug the silky material over her head, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. He pauses just long enough to take her in, smirking and chuckling.

“What?” she asks self-consciously, not sure how to take his apparent amusement.

“It’s nothing,” he says, shaking his head. He turns and looks at the Queen behind him, then back to Regina. “If your hair was longer, I wouldn’t be able to tell you apart by sight alone.”

“Can you tell us apart in other ways?” the Queen murmurs, curious, and Robin nods.

“Your kisses, for one.” As if to demonstrate, he leans in, kissing Regina for a moment. When he releases her, he shuffles over to the Queen on the bed, cupping her cheek and drawing her into a lingering kiss.

Regina watches, transfixed by the image of the two of them, the way they fit together. It’s oddly arousing, seeing her counterpart being so intimate with Robin, that desire slowly building low in her belly and making her thighs clench together.

“Mmm,” the Queen hums as the kiss ends, nipping at his bottom lip and lightly tugging on it until he moans. “She kisses differently than I do?”

“Not exactly,” he says, his brow furrowing as he tries to explain. “It’s more like a feeling. When I kiss her, I feel… different than when I kiss you. It’s like… something’s missing.”

Regina winces, thinks back to her own words to describe kissing him. It’s the last thing she wants to talk about while she’s standing almost completely naked before them. “Maybe I should leave,” she suggests, because clearly this isn’t something any of them truly wants.

“No, stay,” the Queen says, reaching out and grasping her wrist. She draws her back toward the bed, urging her to climb onto it. She maneuvers Regina so that she’s facing Robin while she presses into her back, her chin almost resting on her shoulder. “In some ways, this is your wedding night, too.”

Regina frowns at that, not so sure she wants to think of the situation in that way when she’s already upset. Nor is she entirely sure how she feels about the Queen pressing against her the way she is, her breasts brushing against her back. Before she can process it, Robin’s leaning in, capturing her lips with his own.

She focuses entirely on the kiss, still trying to force some sort of spark into it, her heart rending with every stroke of his tongue that fails to elicit the same feeling that _her_ Robin’s kisses created.

She can’t do this.

“Wait,” she murmurs, pulling out of the kiss, sighing softly when Robin drags his mouth over her jaw, trailing it down her neck. It’s pleasant — he knows what she likes, presumably from his experience with the Queen — but there’s still something missing. “Maybe… Could I watch you two for a bit? I think… I think I need some warming up.”

“You sure you wouldn’t rather have Locksley do that for you?” the Queen murmurs, smirking mischievously at her. “He’s very good at it.”

“No, let me watch first,” Regina says firmly and the Queen shrugs her shoulders with a flippant remark of _Suit yourself_. They maneuver about the bed, shifting positions so that Regina can settle against the headboard, while Robin and the Queen are more in the center. She assumes they’re going to take up the position she had discovered them in, with the Queen astride him, but Robin takes control instead, flipping the Queen onto her back and looming over her.

The Queen _giggles_ , a sound Regina would have never thought her capable of making (and now she wonders if she ever did that, certainly couldn’t imagine it coming out of her own mouth), as she looks up at Robin above her. There’s a moment there, surprisingly tender, even though neither of them say a word before their lips are connecting in a passionate kiss.

Regina makes herself comfortable, just watching for now as they trade kisses, and though she didn’t think it would work, she feels the slow burn of desire igniting in her belly. They’re an attractive couple, her and Robin, quite a sight as they rile each other up, and soon, Regina cannot resist letting her hands wander idly over her body. She’s not touching anywhere illicit, not yet, but she enjoys the slow drag of her nails over her skin, tracing the path Robin’s taking down the Queen’s neck as his lips explore the sensitive flesh there.

By the time he’s laving attention to her breasts, Regina’s tweaking her own nipples, trying to match the rhythm of his mouth as the Queen starts to squirm and moan.

“Again, dear husband?” the Queen gasps suddenly, her hand running through Robin’s hair as he kisses down her stomach. She chuckles breathlessly as he swirls his tongue over her navel, dipping in just to tickle her. “Are you trying to set a new record?”

Regina can just see the edges of Robin’s smirk as he slides further down the bed, glancing up at his wife. “Are you complaining, Your Majesty?” he murmurs, bending his head to drop a line of kisses from her hip to the join of her thigh.

“No,” she says, swallowing back a moan, and Regina wonders if his tongue is as good as her Robin’s. “No complaints…”

The last thing said — at least, the last coherent thing spoken — is Robin’s barely whispered _All right then_ as he adjusts her legs, spreading her open for him, and then he’s kissing up her thighs, sucking open-mouthed things that have her gasping and moaning.

Watching them is strange at first, especially when she looks at the Queen and sees her own face contorted in pleasure. So she watches Robin instead, or what she can see of him. Watches as he licks at the Queen, the way one of his hands slides over her torso to reach her breasts, teasing her nipples as he sucks her clit between his lips before releasing her with an audible little pop.

“You taste so good,” he groans, resting his head on her belly and halting his ministrations. “Could eat you for days and never need anything else…”

Both the Queen and Regina moan at that, with the Queen murmuring breathlessly, “Don't stop, Robin, I need — oh! Mm!”

He's ducked his head back down, dragging his tongue over her sex, before he lifts his head again. “I know what you need, love,” he says, and Regina watches as he slides two fingers into her. “Gods, you're soaked…”

“Mmhmm,” the Queen hums, rolling her hips into his hand, a motion Regina is almost mesmerized by as she unashamedly stares at the two of them. “Just for you.”

That’s… That’s surprisingly hot, hearing them talk to each other, hearing the Queen sound so vulnerable even as she sounds so aroused. It’s enough that Regina slips her hand down, down, between her own legs. She’s not soaked, not yet, but she’ll get there, especially now that she’s rubbing her clit in well-practiced circles, and Robin’s bent his head to his task with the Queen.

“Oh, fuck, right there! Robin!” the Queen cries out, one hand clutching frantically at the sheets, the other gripping his hair and holding him into place. “More, please, I — oh _yes_!”

He’s added a third finger, Regina knows, recognizes the sounds of the Queen’s pleasure rising as he thrusts his fingers harder. She’s gasping, moaning that she’s going to come, and Regina strokes her own clit harder as her eyes flutter shut. Something muffles the Queen’s cries, and she looks up just in time to see Robin claiming her mouth, his fingers working inside of her, driving her into orgasm.

“That’s it, come for me, my love,” he mutters against her jaw, nipping at her chin before kissing her again. “So fucking gorgeous, love watching you come. Fuck, I love you.”

The Queen whimpers, her head thrashing as she writhes. He hasn’t stopped, working her through her climax, until she gives a cry that is on the edge of pain. He withdraws then, lightly petting her clit a few moments more as he kisses her languidly.

“God, I love you,” she moans into his mouth, breaking the kiss to breathe.

He smiles down at her, tender once more before he slips the fingers that were inside her over her lips. Regina’s eyes widen as the Queen’s mouth opens, eagerly sucking her own wetness off of his skin, and it’s not anything Regina hadn’t done herself before, but it’s so pornographic from this angle, she can’t resist moaning softly.

The Queen releases his fingers with a _pop_ , chuckling a bit as she lazily turns her head to look at Regina. “Enjoying the show, dear?” she asks, arching a knowing brow at her and not waiting for an answer. “Why don’t you do a little more than just watch, come enjoy Robin up close and personal…?”

She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t, because he’s not Robin, not who she really wants. But he’s looking at her, with lust-darkened eyes that are so familiar, that she longs to see, and she can’t resist it. It’s a flurry of motion until she’s crashing their lips together, tasting herself on his tongue, and it doesn’t matter that she feels nothing. It doesn’t, she just needs a little more time, just needs to find a way to connect with him.

Robin groans when her hand sneaks around his cock, pumping him, and he’s following her lead. Letting her dictate the pace, the action, to the point that he’s almost tentative when he touches her.

That’s wrong, all wrong, Robin wasn’t so shy or afraid of her. She kisses him harder, moves her hand faster, and just as she’s about to tell him to really _touch_ her, the Queen is doing it for her.

“You’re not going to hurt her, my dear,” she murmurs, running her hand along his shoulders. “She’s me, she likes what I like… Take her. She wants you to.”

That spurs him on, has him kissing her a little more forcefully, pulling away from her mouth to kiss down her neck, sucking and nibbling and he knows just what she likes. Because he knows what the Queen likes, but she can pretend it’s because he’s Robin. Her Robin. Her soulmate. He knows her body well, kisses down to her breasts and gives them plenty of attention, swirling his tongue over her nipples and sucking at the hardened peaks.

It’s when he starts to go further down her body, clearly intending to eat her out like he did for the Queen, that she stops him. That’s too far away, she needs him closer, because she’ll think too much with that much distance between them. She needs him up here, where she can taste him and feel him, hear his voice and even though that connection isn’t quite there, at least he reminds her so much of Robin. It’s almost enough.

“I want you inside me,” she says, because he’s looking at her in confusion. Judging from the Queen’s earlier comments, he’s quite used to going down on her at this point. Probably didn’t expect her to refuse it, especially after the rather enticing display from before.

He doesn’t argue, however, gamely says _Okay_ and comes back up to kiss her. It’s slow but heated, his tongue slipping into her mouth, caressing in all the right ways as he positions himself between her thighs.

Regina gasps as he enters her, at the delicious stretch of him slowly filling her. It’s not as smooth as it could be, she could be wetter, but considering her distracted state of mind, it’s no surprise. She’s wet enough, anyway, that she doesn’t feel any pain as he pushes in. Not physical pain, anyway, despite the tears pooling in her eyes now. He feels the same, a perfect double of Robin, thick and hard and just right, except something’s wrong. It’s some infinitesimal difference she can't quite put her finger on but she can feel all the same. She can't put her finger on it, because it's not physical, it's emotional. It's a difference in their souls, a connection they can't make despite how their bodies are joined.

This Robin is not hers, he is not for her.

He’s shockingly silent as he slides inside of her, no pleasured sound escaping, and that’s wrong, too. Robin always groaned softly once he was in, once they were connected, and fuck, those tears are really building now, he hasn’t even started to thrust before she’s gasping again, fighting to catch her breath after a chasm has taken up residence in her chest.

“I can’t,” she exhales harshly, her hands pushing at his shoulders, “Stop, I can’t do this.”

He stops immediately, pulling away and out of her, and this was a bad idea. She should leave, she should get dressed and get the fuck out, where she can cry in peace and they can have their stupid fucking wedding night.

“Regina, wait,” the Queen says for the second time that night, and Regina wants to ignore her, but she’s grasping for her, holding her back. “It’s okay, it’s okay. What if you — what if you tried a different position, hmm? You’re all riled up, it’s a shame to let that go to waste… It won’t hurt to try.”

She’s wrong, it very much will hurt to try, it is still hurting, but fuck, she’s so tired. Exhausted, really, and miserable and alone and she wants to feel other things. Better things. And it turns out she’s willing to try anything to achieve that, because she’s shifting on the bed, getting on her hands and knees for these two, trying desperately to hold herself together.

Robin is surprisingly tender — she’s so surprised by it with this man, this particular version of Robin who seemed anything but tender. So rough around the edges, but he ghosts his hands over her skin to take hold of her hips, and dips his head to trail kisses along her shoulder blades and the back of her neck, almost as if he’s trying to soothe her.

“Ready?” he whispers to her, one hand slipping between her legs and running over her sex.

No, she’s not. She’s not dry, but she’s not as slick, the tears doing a fair bit to kill the mood. But he’s touching her, hasn’t stopped even though she had whispered _Ready_ back to him, his knowing fingers playing over her folds, trying to work her back up.

It feels good, but distantly, as if he’s not quite touching her, and she balls her hands in the sheets, lets out a shaky breath. She’s got to stop thinking about it, and just feel, but it’s not working. None of it is working, and it’s stressful, and—

She feels a pair of lips against her neck, soft and without the tickle of Robin’s beard, and Regina is too caught up in the sudden feeling jolting through her at the touch to fully register it’s the Queen. She can’t contain her gasp or the shiver that runs over her skin, and she tries to glance over her shoulder and figure out what’s happening.

Behind her, Robin seems to be feeling the same thing, if his shocked expression is anything to go by.

“Did you—?” she asks, and he’s saying, “Yes, it was like—” while the Queen pulls away from the affection she was bestowing on her counterpart.

“What’s going on?”

“Touch me again, Robin, and you too, Queenie,” Regina says, and Robin does as told, runs his fingers along her slit and then circles over her clit, while the Queen hesitates. “Just do it, please,” she begs, and that goads her into action. It’s just a simple little press of her lips to Regina’s shoulder, but she shivers nonetheless, and she could weep for entirely different reasons.

“When you touch me while he’s touching me, it feels…” She searches for the right way to say it, only to give up and go with the simplest explanation: “It feels like Robin. My Robin.”

The Queen blinks at her, taking this in, and then she smiles mischievously. “I see,” she says thoughtfully, adjusting on the bed so that she’s level with Regina’s face. As she leans in, she muses, “Do you suppose this counts as masturbation?” before pressing her lips to Regina’s.

Regina _Mm!_ s in surprise, the kiss sudden — though she should have been expecting it, considering the revelation they’d just had and the Queen’s expression. It’s crazy, kissing herself, but it’s not anything she wouldn’t have done back when she was this bolder version.

At least she knows firsthand now that she is, in fact, a really good kisser.

Behind her, Robin continues to stroke and tease, one finger and then two sliding in as she grows wetter finally. God, it feels amazing, feels like exactly what she’s been missing as his talented archer’s fingers seek out that spot inside of her. Fuck, he was always too good at that, at making her come undone with just his hands.

“More,” she gasps, momentarily breaking the kiss with the Queen so she can readjust, tilting her hips just so, and yes, that’s it. She moans sharply as his fingertips brush just right, finding that spot that has her shivering with pleasure. It’s been a while, too long, she’s missed him so much…

The Queen, for her part, doesn’t stop touching her. Kissing her jaw, her neck, her hands slipping over her body, kneading her breasts in the way she likes. There are advantages to this whole doppelgänger business, such as knowing exactly how she wants to be touched, how to have her shuddering with a few well-placed brushes of her fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” Regina whimpers as Robin curls his fingers inside of her, moving quicker, harder, and she’s rocking into it, pressing back into him as best she can. The Queen catches her mouth again, but she’s gasping too much, that pressure building inside of her, and soon there are fingertips against her clit, softer — the Queen’s, nimble and knowing, pressing perfectly… “Oh, please, I’m — ah! Oh God!”

Her orgasm shocks her, the way it pulses from the inside out, resonating all throughout her body, and this time, the tears at the corner of her eyes are considerably more pleasant ones than before.

Robin slows his fingers, easing her down from that high, and then he’s slipping them out and positioning his cock. “This okay?” he asks tentatively, and yes, it is more than okay, she needs more. Needs to feel _him_.

She nods, reaching back to grasp his hip, a sign of encouragement just in case her almost-frantic, “Yes, now,” wasn’t enough.

This time, when he enters her, she groans at how damn good it feels. Like something has slotted into place inside of her, something she didn’t know was missing (except yes, she did know, she felt it acutely and now she’s not sure how she’ll go back to missing it ever again). She breathes harshly, that heat already building back up to an inferno as he moves inside of her, and fuck, this isn’t going to take long at all.

The Queen is kissing her once more, silencing her moans and gasps, and Robin is kissing her back, warm sucking kisses that stoke her desire higher. She feels surrounded in the best of ways, enveloped, and she gasps against the Queen’s mouth, “Robin,” because she can. Because he’s here (he’s not, Robin of Locksley is still not Robin Hood, but God, it feels right, and she is going to revel in it while she can, in having her soul soothed if only for a short while) and fucking her, God he’s so good, feels amazing, and she’d tell him if her lips weren’t preoccupied with exploring the Queen’s neck.

“Are you close, Regina?” the Queen purrs, and she’s rubbing her clit again, the right amount of pressure, and it has Regina sobbing.

“Yes,” she whines, and Robin groans behind her, muttering something that she thinks might be _Come for me_ , but she can’t quite make it out. She can’t make it out, because the blood rushes to her ears, another orgasm sucker punching her in the stomach. She cries out wordlessly, and then, “Robin!”

He doesn’t stop, prolongs her pleasure with each rap of his hips, until suddenly his hands grip her tighter. He thrusts, thrusts again, burying himself deep, and then he comes with a harsh groan of her name, his fingers clenching around her hips as he empties himself inside of her.

The Queen kisses her, softer now, gentle passes of her tongue against hers. When she pulls away, she hums almost contentedly. “Better?” she whispers to her, forehead pressed to forehead.

“Mhmm,” Regina manages, trying to catch her breath still. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she doesn’t want to move. Once they move, it’s all over.

Eventually, they have to, Robin slipping out of her as he softens. Regina doesn’t mean to sigh, but she can’t help it; the spell is broken now. She shifts off her knees, wincing as her muscles protest from being in that position for so long. Ending up on her side, she gets yet another front row seat to Robin and the Queen as they kiss one another, her counterpart almost climbing on top of him.

They’re insatiable, it seems, as her hand slides down his torso, seeking out his cock. Robin chuckles into her mouth, reaching down to still her hand. “I’m going to need a little longer, Your Majesty,” he teases, pecking her lips.

She pouts at him, just for him to kiss it away. Regina watches as she’s unable to resist his kisses, her pout quickly turning up into a smile that she just cannot stop. When the kiss ends, she turns her head lazily, smirking at Regina. “Would you like to stay with us tonight?”

It’s a… kind offer, Regina supposes, but one she thinks she should decline. As delicious as this experience was, once they discovered how to make it feel less crushing and devastating, staying seems like it would only damage her heart more in the long run. She’s not meant to be here, not meant to share this, and it’s time to bow out.

“No, I’m going to go on to bed,” she says, and tries to offer a teasing sort of smile. “You’ve worn me out,” she adds, except she doesn’t quite sell it. It’s true, though, she’s tired down to her bones, a sort of dull awareness of exhaustion permeating through her core.

“All right,” the Queen shrugs, already caught back up in Robin, the way he’s kissing her neck and lavishing attention onto her skin.

Regina wonders if she even really notices the puff of smoke as she transports herself back to her chambers. Magic has restored her clothing, deposited her right in her bed under the covers, as if she had never left.

Sleep, surprisingly, blessedly, comes easier.

~ | ~

The four of them — Mary Margaret, David, Henry and herself — leave the next morning after breakfast. It’s a sweet but sad affair, with little Roland protesting them going, and the only way to soothe him is to promise to visit or to see if his uncles would let him visit Storybrooke. And then the Queen suggests, “Maybe Henry could come here every now and then, too?” with such hopefulness that Regina feels her heart crack in two.

Her other half misses her son, even with the happiness she’s made for herself here. Regina gets it; she’s not sure she’d ever be truly completely happy without Henry.

“I’m not so sure about traveling by that wand every time,” Regina says though, frowning at it. One must have a very dark heart to use it, and the last thing she wants is for the Queen to hold onto anything that might keep her in that darkness.

The Queen _Hmm_ s thoughtfully, considering the wand. “I wonder…” She steps out of the circle they’ve inadvertently formed, putting some distance between them. When Robin asks her what she’s doing, she winks at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t make a widower of you yet.”

Regina feels the crackle of magic in the air, watches as sparks fly from the wand, as it leaves the Queen’s hand and hovers before her, lightning bursting from the tip. It flies apart suddenly, shattering into pieces that spin around and coalesce, until a round portal forms before the Queen.

“There we go,” she says with a proud smile. Regina’s quick to ask her just what she’s done, and the Queen stands straighter, puffing up a bit as she explains, “I used what magic was left in the wand to make a portal. It’ll open up every three days — around midnight, I think, once it’s disappeared now.”

“Midnight? Really?” Regina huffs, and the Queen rolls her eyes.

“I did my best, okay? And you know midnight is when magical energies are strongest here, so having the realms-traveling portal open when magic is strongest seemed more important than a convenient time.”

She has a point, not that Regina would ever admit it at this moment. Besides, there’s no time to argue when they have no idea how this portal would last, and she has no desire to be stuck here another three days and watch the Queen and Robin play happy families and enjoy their wedded bliss.

She wants to get home.

She says as much — about the portal possibly disappearing on them, not about wanting to go home — and ushers David and Mary Margaret in, lets Henry say his goodbye one final time before he follows his grandparents. Left alone now with the Queen, Robin, and Roland, she bends down to Roland first.

“Goodbye, sweetheart,” she says, and tries not to think about the farewell she was deprived when the Merry Men left Storybrooke. “I promise I’ll try and visit real soon, or let you visit me.”

Roland sniffles, and God if he cries she is definitely going to cry, so she pulls him into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “It’s okay,” she whispers, holding him close, and he nods as best he can with her clutching him like she is. “I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” Roland mutters, eyes watery as he holds out his pinky to her.

She takes it with absolutely no hesitation, declaring, “Pinky promise,” imbuing as much sincerity as she can manage into those two words. It’s enough to tide him over, at least, and then she’s saying goodbye to the Queen and Robin, even giving Robin an awkward little hug, and wishing them well before she’s through the portal.

Then she’s back in Storybrooke, bedecked in all manner of Christmas cheer, about to go back to her huge house tastefully decorated for the holidays. All alone, because Henry is going to Emma’s (he asks if she wants him to stay with her, and no, that’s not necessary, because Emma’s already letting her have him for Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, so she’ll let him spend at least the two nights before at Emma’s). She could say she’s never felt so lonely, but she’s felt exactly this lonely.

And it’s something about being in her empty mansion sets her off, triggers all that emotional upheaval she’s felt since she watched Robin of Locksley propose. She stands in her foyer and cries, sinking back against her closed front door and having a good little sobfest all by herself right there on the floor.

She can’t get them out of her head — the way it looked when it was the four of them, her son and Roland, Robin and herself. A perfect little family, and the Queen was overjoyed with it, Regina could see it. See how happy she was, and that’s not — she’s happy for her, truly, but it’s not fair that the _Evil Queen_ gets her soulmate while she’s all alone.

She doesn’t need Robin to be happy, at least, she doesn’t think that’s what her happy ending is all about. But she wants him, he made her happier, and though she’s loathe to think she deserves anything but endless suffering considering her crimes, she thinks maybe she deserves just a little bit of happiness.

(Bitterly, she thinks about Hook and the ridiculousness of Zeus giving him life again for something he didn’t even do, while Robin’s soul disappeared before her very eyes, and more tears leak out onto her cheeks.)

Regina doesn’t look up from her spot on the floor until she feels something brush against her leg. It’s soft and sends a shiver over her skin, has her lifting her head from where it rests on her arms over her knees, trying to see what’s touched her. She gasps once she sees it.

It’s a feather.

A sign.

Tentatively, she reaches out for it, brushing just the tips of her fingers against it. There’s nothing inherently magical about it, and yet somehow, when she touches it, something electric shocks through her. She thinks about soulmates, the mystery of Robin of Locksley, and how villains lie.

“Robin,” she whispers brokenly, and she would have thought it was impossible to cry anymore, but yet more tears spring to her eyes.

She thinks of the Queen, and that peaceful smile she wore as she promised herself to Robin, and the way she laughed as Henry and Roland threw snowballs at her, and how fucking happy she was, not at all afraid of something potentially ripping it away.

Regina wants _that_. She wants peace and love and happiness.

She strokes the feather, considering it and what it means.

(It means that Robin is out there. It means that, at this very moment, he is looking over her. Looking out for her. Reaching out.)

Something warm builds in her chest, a foreign feeling so unlike her that it takes her a moment to give it a name:

Hope.


End file.
